ith a reassuring
and expectant smile, as if you were going to speak to her, and you
generally did. She must have found out where hundreds of people came
from, and whom they had left at home, and what they thought of the
great show, as she sat on a bench to rest, or leaned over the railings
where free luncheons were afforded by the makers of hot waffles and
molasses candy and fried potatoes; and there was not a night when she
did not return to her lodgings with a pocket crammed with samples of
spool cotton and nobody knows what. She had already collected small
presents for almost everybody she knew at home, and she was such a
pleasant, beaming old country body, so unmistakably appreciative and
interested, that nobody ever thought of wishing that she would move
on. Nearly all the busy people of the Exhibition called her either
Aunty or Grandma at once, and made little pleasures for her as best
they could. She was a delightful contrast to the indifferent, stupid
crowd that drifted along, with eyes fixed at the same level, and
seeing, even on that level, nothing for fifty feet at a time. "What be
you making here, dear?" Betsey Lane would ask joyfully, and the most
perfunctory guardian hastened to explain. She squandered money as she
had never had the pleasure of doing before, and this hastened the day
when she must return to Byfleet. She was always inquiring if there
were any spectacle-sellers at hand, and received occasional
directions; but it was a difficult place for her to find her way about
in, and the very last day of her stay arrived before she found an
exhibitor of the desired sort, an oculist and instrument-maker.

"I called to get some specs for a friend that's upsighted," she
gravely informed the salesman, to his extreme amusement. "She's
dreadful troubled, and jerks her head up like a hen a-drinkin'. She's
got a blur a-growin' an' spreadin', an' sometimes she can see out to
one side on't, and more times she can't."

"Cataracts," said a middle-aged gentleman at her side; and Betsey Lane
turned to regard him with approval and curiosity.

"'Tis Miss Peggy Bond I was mentioning, of Byfleet Poor-farm," she
explained. "I count on gettin' some glasses to relieve her trouble, if
there's any to be found."

"Glasses won't do her any good," said the stranger. "Suppose you come
and sit down on this bench, and tell me all about it. First, where is
Byfleet?" and Betsey gave the directions at length.

"I thought so," sai